


No One Deserves to Disappear

by DevinGaming



Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Cutting, Depression, Happy Ending, M/M, Self-Harm, Sort of? - Freeform, Suicide Attempt, Symbolisim
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-16
Updated: 2018-12-19
Packaged: 2019-09-20 00:05:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17011707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DevinGaming/pseuds/DevinGaming
Summary: It’s raining when he decides to do it.(who’s gonna give a damn anyways? no one will give a damn when he’s gone, because why would they—)





	1. Rain

**Author's Note:**

> I just got inspired to write again. I’ve been having a writer’s block for like, months now, but after some really nice comments on my other works (here and on a different platform), I decided to go ahead and write something!
> 
> (It’s like, sad, and maybe it’s sorta a vent, but I really like this fandom and stuff, so . . .)
> 
> ~
> 
> TW:
> 
> •Suicide Attempts  
> •Depression  
> •Mentions of Self-Harm (it’s why I put the Graphic Description of Violence tag, but it’s not really graphic at all. I just wanted to include the warning just in case).  
> •Anxiety
> 
> Nobody dies!

* * *

 

It’s raining when he decides to do it.

2:00 AM in the morning, Connor Murphy is still awake. The rain thumps against his bedroom window, steadily drumming down against it and everything else in the area (it has since for a while, the worst the area has seen, he doesn’t remember how long the weather forecast said it would last).

He gives up trying to write a letter. Any attempt to do so ends up in the trash can or on the floor around it, crumpled up. Every time, he either leaves off the note with anger, or the clichê words, “ _I'm sorry_ ”.

So instead, he watches the rain.

He watches it for hours. He’s been watching it since he came home, ignoring whatever homework he had, ignoring his mother’s attempts ( ~~ _why does she still try so hard_~~ ) to get him out of his room. Whenever it rains, he drops everything and just . . . watches.

The muscles in his neck, back, and arms ache from being in the same position for so long; arms folded over the window sill, head leaning down on them, while his legs are crossed on top of one another. It doesn’t help that he’s been sitting on the same chair the entire time, either.

He thinks about a lot while he watches the rain;

He thinks about his mother.

His dad, his sister.

The kids at his school.

He thinks about finishing high school, making it into some type of college or university. Making a name for himself. Pulling himself out of the dark, cramped, never-ending hole he’s thrown himself in.

Then, he thinks about the rain.

His mother would be upset. ‘ _She was always the emotional one_ ,’ he says to himself as the corners of his mouth twitch up a bit. It’s not a smile, more like a grimace. He here is, insulting his mom, the one person who's believed in him when no else would.

He remembers how her voice sounded when she spoke to him; soft and quiet, choosing words carefully, like talking to a child ( _ ~~she was trying not to set you off again, because she hates when you yell at her. she doesn't like it when her baby says that he hates her~~_ ).

He yells at her anyways.

Sometimes, after these moments of yelling, he hears his mom crying through the walls later in the day ( _ ~~you made your mom cry you asshole, look at what you've done. she was just trying to do what's best for you. she doesn't deserve~~_ _ ~~this-~~_ ~~~~)

Larry wouldn’t care. It’s evidently clear whenever they’re in the same room. He’s always ranting about him, his drugs, his grades, the way he dresses. Anything and everything, he’ll find something to criticize.

But sometimes after they fight, when Larry thinks he isn’t looking or is gone, he watches as his father heaves out a tired sigh. The older man slouches and finds somewhere to sit down, before holding his head in his hands. He stays like that for a while, and when he starts to get up, that’s when Connor leaves.

He goes back to his room, sits down on the blue sheets of his bed, and holds his head in his hands. He thinks a lot during those moments.

He remembers the baseball glove Larry got him for his birthday when he was younger. He didn’t realize the symbolism it held. He didn’t know that when he left it in the bag, tag still on, upset that he didn’t get what he originally asked for ( _he can’t even remember what it was he wanted_ ), that he burned down a huge bridge between them.

He remembers all the angry outburst he’s had growing up. In the beginning, Larry would try to talk with him along with mom. Sometimes it worked and calmed him down, sometimes it didn’t. As he aged, talking stopped working more and more often. That’s when Larry would start yelling; harsh, crude words thrown about, and he would yell back.

‘ _he wasn’t trying to start a fight_ ,’ his mind tells him.

He remembers something his dad told him and Zoe when they were kids;

_You do the hard thing, cause it’s the right thing_.

Trying to be tough, using his authority and position when Connor would step out of like, that was the hard thing for Larry.

( ~~ _he was just trying to do what’s best for a kid who’s lost control—_~~ )

Sometimes he gets angry at his thoughts, and rushes out of the house. Larry doesn’t stop him (he usually leaves the house after they fight anyways). Sometimes he catches the look on Larry’s face as he barges out the front door; defeat.

Then there’s his sibling. Zoe, his little sister. He thinks about when they were younger. When their parents would take them to the Apple Orchard. There’s always one memory that always outshines the rest when he thinks about their youth.

Him and Zoe and their parents going to the Orchard. A whole day (only a few hours, but his mind likes to exaggerate sometimes), with just his family, the people he loved ( ~~ _—loves, he still loves them, it’s getting harder and harder to show it, it's so complicated_~~ ). Everyone’s smiling, delighted laughter filling the air. They get ice cream after that. Zoe would try to get something different every time, and would convince him to get the same flavour as her.

He doesn’t notice the tears rolling down his cheeks until he thinks, as he looks down at the window sill, ‘ _why the heck is it raining in my room?_ ’ It takes him almost embarrassingly long to figure out why there’s droplets of water on the sill.

He wipes them off the ledge and his face with his sleeve, and begins to think again.

This time, he strays away from his family, and instead thinks about his school. He remembers when he use to think about graduating high school, going to college or university, and making a name for himself. ' _It’s a silly thought_ ,' he tells himself as he stares at his reflection on the window. He tries to make out his features; the tired bags beneath his red, puffy eyes, his pale complexion, but all he can see is disappointment, uselessness, nothing.

The school wouldn’t miss him. Everyone there hates him anyways, they never even cared in the first place. Nobody would miss the crazy, psycho freak. Barely anyone even talked to him, anyways (not counting Kleinman, or the kids who talk to him out of fear after he says something). His grades are shitty, barely getting over 50s, but maybe that’s cause he doesn’t study or listen in class. He’s tried to before, but he’s so far behind in his classes that he barely understands any of the lessons.

He starts to think about the rain again. It’s been raining for a while. It rains everyday, and he wears only a sweater because he doesn’t mind getting a little wet, but everyone else is walking in shorts or skirts or short-sleeves. He asked about the rain one time, why they don’t care if they’re getting, and was met with either blank, confused, or terrified stares (maybe not terrified, but they were looking at him like he was crazy).

It took him a while to figure out that he was the only one that saw it was raining.

Sometimes he liked the rain. Sometimes he didn’t and wanted it to stop.

It came as a shock to him when he sliced his wrist open for the first time (using some razors from his dad’s shaving kit). It hurt and burned and he was shaking all over as the blade cut into him. Dark red blood seeped from the lines afterwards and dripped down his arms onto the bathroom floor ( ~~ _sometimes he was dizzy after_~~ ) but he couldn’t stop. He deserved this, he deserved to hurt.

When he came outside of the bathroom and into his room, he realized that the rain had stopped. So he did it again.

And again.

And again.

 

He’s crying again. He angrily swipes at his eyes, trying to clear the unwanted substance, only for more tears to take its place.

3:00 AM in the morning is when he breaks.

He lets out a sob that racks his whole body. It forces itself out of him, past the lump in his throat, and more cries follow. He buries his head in his arm, one hand held over his mouth, trying to silence himself. It’s almost impossible.

His eyes blur with more tears until he can’t see anything, so he resorts to squeezing them shut. His chest constricts painfully as he cries and gasps heaves in and out every breath, and it almost hurts to do so.

The rain picks up speed and strength. It batters against the window, and for a moment he thinks the glass will shatter. It doesn’t.

So he lets himself cry more.

Nobody cares about him. Why would they, anyways? Why would they care about someone like him?

No more Connor Murphy, who threw a printer at his teacher in 3rd grade. Connor Murphy, the kid who had no friends. Connor Murphy, the let down of the family. Connor Murphy, the kid who didn’t even know why he was still here.

 

He thinks about disappearing.

His mom would cry for a bit, but eventually get over it. After all, she’s got Zoe to look after, she doesn't have the time to waste on mourning him ( ~~ _lies stop_~~ ).

( ~~ _she loves you, you asshole. you’re so fucking selfish that you can’t see how much something like this would break her_~~ )

Larry would be Happy that the fuck-up of the family was finally gone.

( ~~ _you think his isn’t hard for him too? he has to deal with your shit every single day. he gave you the world, and you just threw it away_~~ )

And Zoe, his little sister, he’s at a loss for words about what she thinks. At least she wouldn’t have such an asshole brother anymore (after he leaves, that is).

They would finally be lifted of such a burden.

And him?

( _. . ._ )

 

His throat is hoarse and spent. As he calms down, eyes red but no tears present ( _he’s cried himself out_ ), he looks out the window again.

It’s raining so much, it looks like it’s gonna flood. The rain has been building up and up and up for the last few hours.

It’s 4:00 AM in the morning when he leaves the house.


	2. Rain(bow)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's raining when he decides to do it.
> 
> (his mom is working the night shift, jared's most likely sleeping, and those are the only people on his list that might stop him--)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We got Evan! I'm not fairly good at writing Evan, so be warned xP
> 
> I might have made them a bit OOC. I tried fixing it when I edited, but I'm not sure how I did .3.
> 
> Edit right before I was about to post my first draft of this chapter: holy shit I just found out how Connor freaking died and oh ma gawd I am freaking the heck out. Time to watch the entire musical again and cry, brb. I had to rewrite this damn chapter because of this new knowledge. It's actually quiet a surprise how much Connor and Evan have in common. 
> 
> Oof, I have written, rewriten, deleted, and edited this so much for the past few days instead of doing more important things (school). I was just so excited to get this done! It's also a sorry-gift for those who didn't like the ending of one of my other stories for the musical BMC. I might try to rewrite that one, we'll see!
> 
> Edit just before I post this chapter: might be a bit rushed? like I said, i really wanted to finish this. Plus, i got a shit-ton of work to finishl
> 
> ~
> 
> TW:  
> -Suicide Attempt (jumping off a bridge, overdose)  
> -Panic Attacks  
> -Anger Issues (my interpretation of Connor is that he has trouble controlling his anger and stuff soo)  
> -Depression  
> -Self Esteem Issues
> 
> If you don't like, don't read!
> 
> Feedback and constructive criticism are appreciated! Maybe leave a prompt for me to do?

It's raining when he decides to do it.

2:00 AM in the morning, Evan Hansen is curled up in the corner of his room, labored breathing as he shook violently. He could hear nothing but white noise blaring in his ears, drowning out the downpour of rain outside and his own huffs of breath. He barely registers the pain as his nails dig into his ( ~~~~ _now uninjured_ ) arm, or his mind telling him to stop--he's too busy drowning in unwanted memories that always seem to come back at the wrong time, crashing into his head at full force.

This time, the memory is of his English class last year, a random presentation he, for some reason, can't remember the name of ( _ ~~he actually can remember the name, but doing so makes the memory more vibrant and he doesn't want that, can't have that~~_ ). He doesn't remember anything about the speech, the memory instead focused on the faces of his classmates. 

Their names are long forgotten, features blank, but their expressions are loathing. Laughter fills the air ( ~~ _laughter directed at HIM_~~ ), and suddenly his hands are shaking again and his cue cards fall to the ground.

And he falls down with them.

He opens his eyes, which were previously shut, but he can't see his bedroom. All he can see is the disappointment on his teachers face, the students pointing and laughing behind their hands, his mind screaming at him, ' _get up,_ _what are you doing, you're embarrassing yourself, you should've practiced more it's your fault this is happening_.'

His mind conjures up the worst possible scenarios and the worst memories and throws them at him.

Nobody even remembered the speech the following week.

He tells himself he's overreacting, tries to pull himself the memory's grasp, but it's a losing battle. Shifting from his current position--leaned back against the wall, knees pulled up to his chest, cradling his arms between his stomach and thighs--, he lays on the floor and curls into himself, accompanied with a dumb thought that maybe if he made himself small enough, the memories would go away.

He lets out another sob and digs the palms of his hands into his eyes. The tears still manage to get past his hands, trailing down his cheeks and mixing in with the carpet floor of his room.

It's around 2:30 AM in the morning when the white noise fades into the pattering of rain against the roof, and when he's finally able to see his bedroom again.

He lays there for a few minutes, hours, he doesn't even know anymore. He's too tired to move, instead choosing to bask in the darkness of the room. After long minutes have passed, he pushes himself off the ground and unceremoniously throws himself onto his bed. Wrapped and secured under the blanket, he curls himself into a ball once more. He doesn't go to bed, even though he knows there's school tomorrow ( ~~ _and that he'll sleep through a few classes and fall behind again and fuck up his future okay stop that train of though please_~~ ).

He thinks.

* * *

He reaches a park about half an hour after he leaves the house. He walks through the empty playground, sparing glances at a few of the structures distributed around. He wasn't here for the park, but rather the bridge beside it, which towered over a river. His clothes are soaked through, his grey sweater doing nothing to protect them or himself. He didn't take the car, but instead walked to his destination. If he got sick the next day . . . well, he wasn't even going to _be_ here the next day.

He attempted to write one last note before he left, but it still looked wrong and he couldn't get the right words out. Maybe, if they might decide to look through his trash for some reason, they'll find all his other letters.

He's planned this all out (well, as planned out as 20 minutes). His family's asleep, he made sure of it when left the house, and they're the only people who would bother looking for him. Nobody else would interrupt. He brought a bottle of pills from the medicine cabinet, too ( _ ~~the medicine from his doctors and failed therapies~~_ ). He had planned to take them all before throwing himself off the bridge, so that in case the drop didn't kill him and people found him, he would be dead.

What he didn't plan for was somebody else at the bridge, standing on the other side of the rail, balancing precariously on the small space between the rail and the ledge.

Even from where he was standing, about 10 meters away, the person's shaking was clear despite the downpour of rain and wind surrounding them. He could see their hands flexing open and close on the railing. At that moment, the person leaned forward, and Connor thought he would fall, but the person pulled them self back before gravity could do its thing.

Connor let out a breath he didn't know he was holding.

* * *

2 hours later, after being alone with his thoughts, Evan leaves the house.

He thinks about his mom as he walks.

His mom would be happy. She wouldn't have to deal with a messed up child, wouldn't have to spend money on his medication and therapy and all that stuff. She could pay for her own classes, maybe get a better job and stop working so many hours a day. She would be relieved of a burden, of the worst thing in her life. He wouldn't be there to ruin her life further ( ~~ _she said that you're the best thing that's ever happened to her stop lying to yourself-_~~ )

Then, he thinks about Jared.

As soon as the name pops up in his mind, a bitter chuckle escapes him. Jared, his  _family_ friend, wouldn't possibly care about him disappearing. Scratch that, they weren't even friends. Jared was just using him for his car insurance. He didn't actually care about him ( ~~ _he does he does he does he does-_~~ ). Maybe he would be sad for a day or so, but then forget about him by next week. His parents will continue to pay for his car insurance because they feel bad that he lost a ' _friend_ '.

He's full on sobbing by the time he reaches the bridge, snot and tears and sweat and all that gross stuff. Letting himself fall from a 40ft tree didn't work, maybe the impact of his body slamming into the water will.

He wrote a note before he left. It's typed on his laptop ( ~~ _his hand was shaking too hard to hold the pencil properly_~~ ), which he left opened on his bed ( ~~ _dear mom, turns out today wasn't an amazing day after all. this isn't going to be an amazing week or an amazing year, because why would it be? I wish everything was different. I wish I was apart of something. I wish that anything I said mattered. I mean face it, would anyone notice I just disappeared?_~~ ). His mom will find it later if she decides to search through his things.

It takes him a few minutes before he forces himself to climb over and stand on the other side of the railing. The rail is wet and slippery from the rain. He keeps adjusting his grip as he stares down at his fate. He leans forward for a moment, but suddenly it's hard to breathe so he pulls backs again. He doesn't know why he's so hesitant to let go; letting go of the branch was easy. He just closed his eyes, and let gravity do the rest. The sickening crack that reverberated throughout the forest afterward--

Evan closed his eyes and let the feeling of rain washing over him bring him out of the memory  _( ~~it's now or never~~ )_.

He leans forward once more, his eyes fluttering shut, hands going limp, and then--

"What the fuck are you doing?"

* * *

The words tumble out of Connor's mouth before he has a chance to stop them. He didn't even realize that he stepped forward, now about 5 meters away from the person. He watches as they tense up and flail, their grip tightening on the railing once more. They turn around--he can see that it's a boy now--, eyes wide and frightened and confused, but there's a strong, " _Why did you interrupt,_ " in his expression.

The boy is wearing nothing but running shoes, brown pants, and a blue-striped polo shirt. His eyes are red and puffy ( ~~ _Connor sees his reflection in the mirror again_~~ ), everything about him soaked. 

For a while, they stare at each other, none of them daring to speak and break the silence that now envelopes them. Random thoughts swirl around in Connor's head:  _who is this guy, why is he here, was he going to kill himself?_ And, more selfishly, _shit,_ _he got here before me_.

"What the fuck are you doing?" he asks again, because dammit, they weren't getting anywhere like this. The boy remains silent, so many emotions flying across his face.

When he does speak, his voice is so low, Connor has to strain his ears just to hear. He still doesn't catch what the boy is saying; he's mumbling. Connor takes another step forward, and almost regrets it as he watches the boy slightly flinch.

"What are you doing?" he repeats himself once more. He's quieter this time.

The boy opens his mouth to speak, but then closes it. He does this for a few more times, before finally stuttering out, "Y-You're Connor Murphy."

Connor's eyes widen for a split second, surprised that this person knew who he was, before his expression turned sour. "Yeah, and?" Of course this boy knew who he was, everyone knew who Connor fucking Murphy was. "What are you doing?"

"W-What does it look like?" the boy shoots back, before he clamps his mouth shut. "I"m sorry, I didn't mean to--that was uncalled for, I'm sorry," he rushes out to say, looking at anything and everything besides Connor, seemingly surprised at himself for saying that. His foot inches back a bit.

"You're gonna fall if you take another step back," Connor says, and the boy sends him a look that reads, ' _that's kinda the point_ '. "What's your name?" he asks, taking another step towards the boy. He slips the bottle of pills into the pocket of his sweater.

"Uh, it's Evan," the boy, Evan, says. "Evan Hansen."

Connor walks towards Evan, ignoring how he yells at him not to come any closer, until he's standing beside the rail. He heaves himself over the railing, paying no attention to the gasp from the other boy, until they're both standing on the ledge, side-by-side. His hands slide across the surface of the railing, and he forces himself to grip tighter. His stomach coils up, and suddenly the drop seems much higher than usual.

"So," he starts, throat dry but he tries to ignore it, "why are you doing it?"

"Doing what?"

He rolls his eyes and gestures to the drop in front of them. "Jumping."

 "W-Well . . ." It's clear that he's trying to avoid the question. "Why are you here?" Evan asks.

"To jump," he says simply, shrugging his shoulders like they were discussing something unimportant. "You didn't answer me."

Evan visibly swallows. "I'm . . . I'm here to jump, too."

"Well, that's just great."

Silence falls over them.

"You still didn't answer my question," Connor says. He copies the position Evan was in before; back against the railing, hands stretched out and gripping the bars behind them. He tilts himself forward like he saw Evan do, and hears the sharp intake of breath from beside him. He grins to himself, though it's somber, and leans back away from the edge.

"I don't want to say," Evan answers him. His voice is still shaky, but it's clearer than anything else he's said.

"Whatever," Connor mutters under his breath and turns his gaze away.

More silence.

"Are you going to jump yet? Cause if not, I'm going to," Connor says. When he sees the look Evan gives him--almost offend, with a side of, ' _what the fuck is wrong with you_ '--he barks out a laugh. But it's tired, not a trace of humor able to detect.

"What, did you expect me to say that it won't be worth it?" he snaps, slightly relishing the way Evan flinches and looks away. "That things will get better? Were you waiting for me to tell you all those bullshit lies people say on the internet?"

"No," the other boy says, "b-but I was expecting you not to be such a--uh . . . douche." He was trying to go for a bitter tone, but it just sounded like a kid who was trying to swear for the first time.

Connor just shrugs in response. "No point in getting your hopes up. We're both not gonna see tomorrow anyway."

"You're very optimistic."

Connor lets go of the bar with one of his hands to clench it into a fist. "Well, if you're not gonna jump first, I guess I will," he says instead of yelling like he wanted to. His gaze turns to the drop before them.

Evan remains quiet.

He spares a quick glance at him, then back to his fate. The water looms below him. Despite the rain, he thinks he can hear the currents of the river as they clash against the rocks near. He reaches into his pocket, the one with the pills, and grabs the bottle. He pulls them out, opens the cap, but at the last moment, his sweaty hands combine with the rainfall, the container slips out of his grasp. He blindly reaches out as they fall closer to the water, until they disappear beneath the giant ripples of the river.

"Fucking shit!" he swears. "Goddamnit!"

Evan is saying something-maybe asking a question-but the words don't reach Connor. He doesn't hear much besides his pounding heartbeat ringing in his ears. It's so inconvenient-- just when he's about to do it, they fall out of his hand.

He's frustrated at himself for letting his grip falter. He's frustrated a God for trying to keep himself from dying after all this time--it's not like there was anything worth living for.

He inhales quietly, trying to calm his racing heart. It should be easy, he just has to lean himself forward--yup, just like that.

He feels gravity pulling him down.

And he lets it.

He willingly lets himself fall, and then--

Hands grasp at his sweater and he's suddenly yanked back towards the bars.

* * *

Evan doesn't know what pushed him to stop the other boy, but he doesn't regret it.

The rain is slowly shifting to a drizzle.

Connor shoves him off as soon as he regains his balance. His eyes are squeezed shut, hands flying back to hold onto the railings, knucles white from how tight he's holding on, breathing oddly slow.

He opens his eyes and locks them with Evan's.

Evan can't read or name the emotions that swim in Connor's eyes, all but one: anger. He barely registers Connor's hand reaching forward and gripping his shirt, pulling him closer. All he can focus on is the sudden rage that now burst from the other boy, whose face is twisted into a snarl, and trying not to lose his balance in their new position.

The rain picks up speed again. He manages not to wince as the droplets whip into his face, feeling like sharp, tiny bullets.

"Who the fuck do you think you are?" Connor hisses. He waits for a response that doesn't come, and his grip on Evan's shirt tightens. "You think you can tell me what to do?!"

"No, n-not at all-"

"You think that you can go ahead and try to stop me?! Like you actually care?!" he roars."I know you don't! I'm just a fucking freak to you and everyone else!"

"No, I don't-"

"I'm not the freak, you're the freak!"

With that, Connor lets go of Evan's shirt, who in turn stumbles back, nearly losing his footing, and latches himself onto the railing. He's breathing heavily, trying to slow down his frantic heartbeat.

Connor goes silent and stares down. Evan thinks that he's going to try and jump again, but he doesn't make a move to. His jaw clenches and unclenches every few seconds.

"Go ahead," the taller boy says, tone flat, "say that you don't want me to jump. Everyone else probably wants me to, though."

That last part was whispered, not meant to be audible, but Evan heard it anyways.

He wants to open his mouth to say something, anything, but the words won't form together. What would he say, anyways?

He knows about Connor Murphy, everyone has. He's never met him until this morning (after realizing that they both were gonna kill themselves at the same hour and place), but he's heard different things from others. That he's a psychopath, a freak, that he'll grow up to become a school shooter, things like that. He does drugs, too, apparently, and he's out of his mind ( _ ~~he also has a crush on his sibling, Zoe Murphy~~_ ).

He's not sure what to believe after today.

He came here to die, he didn't expect to run into someone with the same intentions.

He tries to think of something to say again, but his mind is blank.

Connor sighs, breaking Evan out of his thoughts. He seems to have taken Evan's silence as an answer and begins to lean forward once more.

". . ."

( _ ~~speak, say something~~_ )

. . .

 

 

"I-I don't want you to jump."

He catches how the other boy freezes, before slowly settling back against the rails. Another sigh leaves him, and his eyes catch Evan's.

"You're just saying that, Hansen."

Evan shakes his head and repeats, "I don't want you to jump."

". . ."

 

 

"I don't think I want you to jump, either," Connor admits, exhaling, and all hell breaks loose.

* * *

They're on the other side of the rail, near the road of the bridge, sitting down. The sun is rising now ( _how long have they been there?)_ , orange and pink and yellow beginning to overtake the dark skies.

They talk for a bit. Not anything important ( _ ~~not anything about how they were about to kill themselves~~_ ~~~~), just random topics that came to mind; what they might do if they finished school ( ~~ _if they went through with what they wanted to do at the bridge, they wouldn't even have the chance to finish school_~~ ), the people at their school (turns out they both go to the same school, but it was just that Connor never saw Evan in the halls), and more.

It's Connor who starts most of the conversations. Evan seems to have trouble with starting any himself, which almost makes Connor want to yell ( _ ~~because they almost died at least try and put some effort~~_ ~~~~), but he doesn't.

The conversations fade into silence, and they just watch as the sun rises. They have school, they know it, but neither make a move to get up. They don't show signs of leaving anytime soon either.

Cars start passing by in uneven intervals, a few people, too. Some eye them as they stroll past, but don't say anything.

Connor reaches into his other sweater pocket and pulls out his phone. He put it on silent, just in case anybody might've called. He checks his notifications: empty, aside from 2 missed calls from his sister, Zoe. His eyes scan up the screen until they find the time.

"It's almost 7:00," he says, making Evan turn his attention over to him. "We have school soon."

"Yeah."

"Our parents are gonna wonder where we are."

"Uh-huh," Evan murmurs in response, distantly, eyebrows narrowing in thought.

Connor looks back to his phone and logs in. He checks his messages to find a few from Zoe. None of them seem important, she's just asking where he is and that mom is freaking out.

"Do you want my number?" Evan looks up in mild surprise at the other boy. He looks down at Connor's phone, the screen now displaying a few of his contacts.

"U-Uh," he stammers, "I mean, sure? If you want to--to, um, give it to me . . ." He's obviously taken by surprise at the question.

"I wouldn't be asking if I didn't, Hansen," he says. "Give me your phone."

Evan hands him his phone, this weird, off-brand cell phone and in turn Connor gives him his. He finishes adding his contact quickly, while Evan takes a little while longer; his hands are shaking for some reason, and he keeps wiping them on his shirt ( _ ~~it's not like that would help, his shirt is soaked through~~_ ~~~~). But he finishes just a bit after and they switch devices.

"Well, now we can both pretend that we have friends."

A look of hurt flashes across Evan's face. "Y-Yeah, g-good point," he says slowly. His fingers find them hem of his shirt and begins fiddling with it.

They stay in silence for another moment, before Connor gets up. "I'll see you at school, Hansen," he tells the boy as he begins to walk away. He doesn't look back until he knows he's out of sight, and when he is, he drops to his knees on the ground, holds his head in his hands, and lets himself cry for a minute or two.

* * *

He makes it home half an hour later. As soon as he walks through the front door, his mom is in front of him, fussing about his hair, his clothes, why on earth he was outside so early. And he lets her worry about him a second, before brushing off her concerns with an, " _I'm fine_." She doesn't believe it, of course, and attempts another way to get him to listen, but he's walking to his room before she opens her mouth again. He brushes past Larry, who watches him as he walks into his room and slams the bedroom door shut.

He strips himself of his wet clothes. He doesn't shower, no strength or desire to do so, and just throws on a clean shirt and pants. His hair is hard to brush, but he manages to make it look okay. He packs his bag and leaves the room.

Zoe is standing by the open front door when he walks downstairs. She tells him that he missed breakfast. He just rolls his eyes and walks outside, but not before he catches the expression on Zoe's face; he can't describe it, but it's conflicted.

 

 

It's quiet the whole ride to school.

* * *

When they make it, Zoe leaves his side immediately, not wanting to be seen with him so that people don't know they're siblings. Her efforts are futile though, since everyone already knows they're related.

Jared Kleinman makes a dumb comment about his hair, but he quickly runs off after a bit of intimidation.

He looks around, and he spots someone standing near the entrance.

They lock eyes, and Evan waves at him hesitantly, but he's smiling slightly.

The rain lets up a bit.


End file.
